Monday, February 25

10 posts in this topic

Ashton stands here at the crossroads of classicism: These “Monotones” evoke Marius Petipa (“La Bayadère”), George Balanchine (“Apollo”) and Merce Cunningham. The white trio suggests the slow motion of men walking in outer space; the green piece has the mystery of Bedouin travelers in the desert.

There are many celebrated Chopin ballets; Ratmansky is taking on a tradition, and cheerfully finding his own place in it. The famous prelude from Les Sylphides becomes a grand trio, with Leanne Benjamin, Valeri Hristov and Steven McRae striking grand poses that face away from the audience, as if they were acknowledging some other public. 24 Preludes is a marvellous ballet, The Royal Ballet’s best new work in years.

The fact of two creations for the Royal Ballet in a new programme is cause for cheers. That they are from two major choreographers in the classic-academic manner is cause for even more plaudits. That I find that both variously misfire in realisation is my excuse for more muted pleasure than the eager reception given on Friday night. (That they were preceded by a lacklustre account of Balanchine’s Apollo is no reason for my lack of enthusiasm.)

24 Preludes is the first ever UK commission for former Bolshoi director Ratmansky, now resident at American Ballet Theatre. Set to orchestrations of Chopin piano music, it’s like a big story ballet with the narrative removed, like a fish filleted of its bones.

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Fatigue is the enemy here, and with a lineup like this sometimes it wins. There were moments in last weekend's first round of performances when a few good breaths might have been saved for the end, if that's even possible.

But this company, which spends most of its time performing story ballets like "The Nutcracker," showed it has more talent than its community often gets to see. It's not about getting every step in place for this troupe as much as it is about demonstrating team spirit; they help each through, and that's part of the joy in watching them.

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On Saturday, Kylian’s work hewed closest to the classical ballet tradition, giving the Aspen dancers occasion to show their grace on point, and their symbiotic accord in every aspect of partnering. The clarity and restraint of his choreography let one focus on manifold details: duet partners that seemed to be joined at the hips; dramatic extensions and cantilevered poses that unfolded with no fear, no second thoughts, no chance to erase: a calligraphic language made in the moment.

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The Unsung’ is a late piece of American modern dance by choreographer José Limon. Inspired by native American culture, it was first performed in 1970. Eight male dancers move in complete silence but, according to soloist Gregory Dean, the piece’s rhythmical structure means that “you can hear the music in your head when you dance”. The Royal Danish Ballet describes the proud and energetic performance that emphasises gravity in heavy-stomping movements as “macho”. And yet, ‘The Unsung’ also features gentle lifts and fascinates by how carefully the dancers listen to each other’s bodies to achieve perfect synchronicity.

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With a cast of nearly 60 dancers, the local ballet company's March 9 and 10 productions are set to the sweeping music of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, edited to accompany the 1876 ballet from his score for the play....

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Symphony No 9 presents a special challenge due to its abrupt transitions between lively, even brash fast sequences and darker moods. Ratmansky does not quite overcome the challenge of the jarring contrasts but deals magnificently with the often frenetic pace, responding to the music with choreography that combines rapid, complex footwork with lush, upper-body movement.

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Borderlands brings McGregor’s no-fears trunk show of performance artifacts to the Opera House stage, the centerpiece of which is a black square that rises against a grey surround. Maria Kochetkova reiterates that this is the night of the spine, as she makes elastic and plastic work of hers, then caught after a loose run and lifted, all of it resolving in a quick splutter across to center stage. With typewriter clatter for accompaniment she skips backward as lights go down and all the dancers regroup into spine stretches and a foursome arrives in a brambly configuration at center stage again, moving into low-to-floor perambulations. When the squares rise out of sight, there are semaphore movements and sometimes music rules instead dance, where steps are not so much steps as units-in-motion, like mechanical toys.

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As Christophe Tardieu, deputy director of the Paris Opera, announced that anyone could make a donation — “no matter what the amount” and “by check, by credit card!” — it was clear that the Paris Opera Ballet, without exactly admitting it, is trying to redefine itself.

The Paris Opera Ballet is perhaps the second most elitist, insular and self-breeding cultural institutions in France. (The Comédie-Française is first.) Unlike Britain’s Royal Ballet or American Ballet Theater, with their rosters of international, multilingual stars, the Paris dancers are almost exclusively French and the products of the Paris Opera Ballet school.